


Don’t Waste Your Time

by Phineasflynns



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: As long as I can control myself cuz I never succeed with slowburn, Attempted Suicide, M/M, Slow Burn, newt is depressed, rating may go up in later chapters we’ll see how I feel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 19:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14291994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phineasflynns/pseuds/Phineasflynns
Summary: Thomas and Newt are best friends, and share a dorm room together now that they’re in college. Most mornings start with Newt fetching breakfast and having to drag Thomas out of bed, and most evenings end with late nights cramming for tests or marathoning movies.There’s also days that begin with jumping off a roof.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this written on my phone for about a month but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to pursue it, but the ideas will not leave me alone so here we are. Please let me know what you think!

It was a quiet morning at Glade University, students happily slumbering as the sun crawled its way through the sky. It’s finally Saturday, and not a single student is hesitating to take full advantage of that and catch up on some much needed sleep.

Well, perhaps a single student was.

The mild Saturday morning found the blonde young man making his way across campus, a coffee in each hand and a bag of treats tucked under his arm. The young man, Isaac Newton, had a content smile on his face as he walked, the zipper of his pale orange hoodie undone, letting the cool March breeze blow over him. Perhaps it was too early in the season to have his sweater undone, what with February only just having ended, but he doesn’t care.

He makes his way up a flight of stairs and down a hallway, easily shifting the cups in his grasp so he can push the door open with the kind of ease that only comes from years of practise. He steps into the warm dorm and kicks off his shoes, approaching the island counter and allowing the bag of treats to fall from his arm to land upon the surface.

He lives here, in this slightly cramped dorm room, with Thomas Edison -yes, he realizes the irony in both of their awful names- his roommate and not-so-coincidentally his best friend. He had known Thomas his entire life; their moms were close friends, and had shoved them together practically at birth, elated that the two had grown so close.

“Thomas.” He calls, shrugging his sweater off to hang it over the back of one of their two chairs at the small round dining table in the centre of the room.

He receives no answer and smirks slightly, once again grabbing the treats and coffees, and he makes his way down the small hall and to his friends room. Their dorm room is one of the bigger ones, but still manages to be cramped. It has a decent setup; the front door opens to the living room to the right, kitchen to the left. The living room and kitchen share a back wall with a door in the middle, parallel with the front door, and that hallway conceals the door first to the bathroom, and then to each of their bedrooms. Thomas’ is the one furthest down the hall.

Newt pushes the slightly ajar door open with his feet and walks in, stooping to set the coffees on his friends nightstand and set the treats aside before he flops onto the bed.

“Tommy.” He says, and his friend groans and pulls a pillow over his face.

“Go away.” He complains. “I’m tired.”

“Did you say up all night touching yourself again?” He taunts playfully, and that earns him a glare from under the pillow.

“So what if I did.” He shoots back, no real venom in his tone. Newt smirks.

“Did you at least think of me?” He coos mockingly, and Thomas is suddenly immensely grateful for the pillow over his face, conveniently preventing Newt from seeing his face flush.

The words may have been mocking, but unbeknownst to Newt, they were true.

“You wish.”

“I brought coffee.” Newt says as a peace offering, and Thomas shuffles and his eyes peek at Newt from beneath the puffy pillow. Newt giggles, chest bursting with affection.

He fights down the sudden urge to run his fingertips along Thomas’ cheek.

“Any goodies?” He inquires, and Newt snorts and reaches for the bag.

“Is that all I’m good for?” He asks, even as he holds it out. Thomas immediately snatches the bag and dives back under the blankets. “Hey! Some of those are mine, you git!” He curses, tackling the snickering lump that is his best friend.

~~~~~~

They make good living partners. Newt had never doubted they would; they know each other better than they know themselves. When they fight it’s never for long, and it’s always ended with a hug, a reassurance that everything is okay between them.

There’s only a few things Thomas doesn’t know about Newt, and vice versa. When they were younger, Newt was diagnosed with depression. Thomas had done a marvellous job helping, and after a few years, Newt began feeling guilty for relying on his friend so much, and as such began hiding it from him.

Thomas wasn’t stupid by any means, and sometimes Newt couldn’t trick him and Thomas wasted no time making sure Newt knew how loved he is and how important he is. But he doesn’t know it’s gotten worse. Newt figures it’s easier to hide than to see the worry in Thomas’ eyes when Newt says he wants to die.

Sometimes being happy was easy. Sometimes he could sit with Thomas on the couch for a few hours, and his heart feels like it’s floating. Other days it feels like he has shackles on his wrists with weights at the ends, trying to drag him down into the abyss.

“Are you okay?” Thomas asks softly, and Newt raises his head, torn from his thoughts. He hums in confusion, and Thomas grimaces slightly. “You look a little out of it.”

Newt bites his lower lip. He can see the questions in Thomas’ eyes, and he knows Thomas has caught on to his mood today. He wonders if he can lie his way out of it, but the compassion and utter determination in his friends deep brown eyes has him heaving a sigh.

He averts his gaze, and it falls briefly upon Minho where he stands at the counter, ordering his meal. It falls quickly back to the table.

“Just not feeling so hot today, that’s all.” He replies softly. “I’m okay, really.”

Thomas’ brows knit together.

“Do you want to go home?” He offers immediately, selflessly, and Newt feels guilty because he knows that if he said yes Thomas would jump up and take him home, despite the fact that this is the first time he’s had a chance to see Minho in weeks.

“No.” He says gently, hand falling to the brunettes forearm to gently squeeze. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” He presses, and when Newt only smiles tiredly Thomas lets him drop it, promising that they’ll talk later. Newt hopes he forgets.

~~~~~~~

As it turns out, Thomas doesn’t forget. Deep down Newt knew he wouldn’t, but he doesn’t want to see the sorrow in his beautiful chocolate eyes when he admits what’s wrong.

“Newt?” He prompts gently, fingertips gently touching his shoulder, and Newt flinches in surprise, realizing he hadn’t answered the brunettes inquiries.

“I’m okay.” He says lamely, and suddenly he’s turned around and facing Thomas, and for some reason he can’t even begin to understand his chest is aching and his eyes are watering and it all feels like too much.

“Newt, you don’t have to lie to me.” His voice is soft like silk, wrapping around him and drawing him closer, and suddenly his face is in the crook of Thomas’ neck, arms hanging limply by his sides.

Thomas’ arms immediately encase the slightly taller boy, and Newt lets out a trembling sigh.

“It’s just one of those days.” He admits, and he hates himself for it.

Thomas squeezes him tighter.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you need to talk?”

“Just.. Be here.” He mumbles, and he feels Thomas’ hand begin gently rubbing up and down his back when his arms finally circle the brunette in return.

“Always.”

He holds tighter as he sobs.

~~~~~

They sleep in Thomas’ bed that night, Thomas snuggled up behind him with his arm firmly around his waist. Newt’s chest aches at the proximity, wishing so desperately that it meant something more to the brunette, wishing it meant Thomas loved him too.

But he knows he doesn’t, and he won’t.

And that’s okay.

Even if it’s not, he’s dealing.

When Thomas wakes in the morning Newt is gone, and worry spurs him from the bed. Quick steps find him in the kitchen, where Newt is leaned over the island counter with a mug of coffee pressed between two pale hands.

“Hey.” He says softly, and Newt turns and forces a smile.

“Hey. You’re up early.”

“I was worried when I noticed you were gone.” He admits, crossing the room to pull Newt into a gentle hug, and the blonde leans into it slightly.

“I’m okay.” He replies.

“Are you feeling any better?” Thomas asks, stepping away to grab a mug so he can pour his own cup of coffee.

Newt knows this is an opportunity to tell him the truth- to tell him that he had snuck out of bed to slice into his skin as if it was a piece of cheese, and to tell him that it’s getting worse every day and he needs help.

But he doesn’t. He’s scared.

So he pushes his thighs tighter together and forces a smile.

“Much better, thank you.” He lies. “I’m sorry about yesterday.” At least the end of the sentence was genuine. He tries to let that make him feel better, but it doesn’t work.

“Not a problem.” He replies easily, stepping to his side with his own mug of coffee and gently bumping their shoulders together. “I’m always here for you, no matter what.”

Newt smiles tightly, guilt twisting his stomach. It only increases with Thomas’ next words.

“We should get those tattoos soon.”

“Huh?” He says stupidly, and the brunette smiles in a manor that makes Newt relax slightly, despite the knots in his gut.

“Those tattoos we talked about in high school, to cover..” He trails off, but his fingertips gently dance over Newt’s forearm and the angry white scars littering his pale skin.

He thinks he might puke.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He agrees hurriedly. “Definitely.”

Thomas grimaces slightly and tilts his head.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.” He lies again, the words bitter on his tongue. “I just didn’t sleep well, is all.”

Thomas seems to buy it, as his expression turns sheepish.

“Was I a bed hog?” He asks, and Newt snorts and shakes his head.

“No, nothing like that. You were quite the lovely big spoon.” He teases, taking some joy out of the way Thomas’ cheeks turn red. “Just a lot on my mind.”

“Fair enough.” Thomas agrees. He steps back from the counter then and stretches his arms over his head with a contented sigh. “I’m gonna hop in the shower. Care to join me, dear?”

“You wish.” Newt snorts, and Thomas giggles.

“In your dreams.”

With that he’s gone, and Newt sighs softly, smile falling from his lips.

“Yeah..” He mumbles. “In my dreams..”

~~~~~~~

Some days pretending was easy, and he could fake a smile the whole day until he finally could crawl into his bed and cry, allowing the shackles upon his wrists to drag him under. Some days were harder, like today for example, leading to him hiding in the library under the pretence of doing homework, trying to kill time until Thomas goes to bed. It’s been a little over a week since the day he had admitted to Thomas that he was having a bad day, and since then he hadn’t been able to kick himself in the ass hard enough to convincingly act happy.

So he had exiled himself for the better part of the week, finding various tasks to occupy himself with away from the dorm until Thomas finally went to bed, unaware of how much his actions were hurting his best friend.

“Newt?” His head shoots up at the sound of his name, and his heart stutters in his chest at the sight of Thomas standing before him.

“Tommy?” He asks bewilderedly, eyes wide in surprise.

Thomas looked like shit. Newt hadn’t seen him in almost a week, but the brunette looked like he hadn’t been eating or sleeping that entire time.

“Hey. I thought I might find you here.” He says nervously, heart twisting unpleasantly in his chest. “I uh.. did I do something wrong?”

“Huh?” Newt grunts stupidly, tilting his head at the other man.

Thomas’ left hand lifts to scratch at the back of his neck as he averts his gaze.

“You uh.. you’ve just been avoiding me, is all, and I thought I might’ve done something wrong..” His voice is timid, and Newt feels his heart shatter in his chest.

He swallows against the thick feeling in his throat.

“No.” He murmurs, voice cracking. He swallows and tries again. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Can I ask why..?”

Newt sighs softly and averts his gaze.

“I lied that morning. I wasn’t feeling totally better but I.... I didn’t want to worry you.” He admits, “I... I’ve felt like shit all week.”

Thomas’ expression changes to one of sorrow. Not of pity, never pity, but sorrow that he couldn’t just take his friends suffering away.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks softly, and Newt shrugs, blinking back the guilty tears he feels welling up.

“I didn’t want to worry you. I- I feel like I’m a pain-“

“Hush. You’re never a pain.” Thomas assured him, crossing the room in three quick strides and stooping to grip Newt’s shoulder with the same hand that had scratched his own neck moments ago. “You’re my best friend, Newt. We’re in this together. I want to do everything in my power to help you, and to be there for you.”

Newt nods, smiling shakily.

“Okay.” He murmurs.

He squeezes his thighs together subconsciously, but Thomas doesn’t notice. He holds up his right hand, and Newt finally takes notice of the brown paper bag clenched in his fist.

“I brought Chinese.” He murmurs, and Newt manages a slightly bigger smile.

“I knew I love you for a reason.”

“I’m being used.”

~~~~~~~

Thomas helps.

Newt knew he would; he always has.

This time is different than high school, though. They can’t ditch school whenever they want, and skip class to sleep in, and shirk their homework to stay home and cuddle or watch movies. Newt can see Thomas struggling; he isn’t sleeping as much, and as such has missed two classes in the week since Newt came clean in the library.

Newt tries to stay honest with him because he knows it’s what Thomas wants, but Newt can’t handle Thomas putting Newt over himself, and gradually the lies begin once more.

“Tommy, why don’t you head to bed?” He asks softly, leaning over the back of the couch where the brunette is struggling to stay awake. “I’m feeling much better, I can come join you in a bit if you like?”

“Are you sure?” The brunette mumbles, and at Newts repeated insistence he eventually stands and wanders to his room, out like a light before his head hits the pillows.

Newt finds comfort with a blade before he crawls into Thomas’ bed next to him.

~~~~~~~

He can’t decide what is worse; talking to Thomas, or not talking to Thomas.

When he’s honest, the brunette makes him his top priority, and while guilt does twist his stomach the constant attention helps calm him down, and is a pleasant reassurance. Unfortunately, the downside of that option is that Thomas’ health and grades immediately plummet, as he immediately and unconditionally makes Newt his top priority.

And while Newt knows with one hundred percent certainty that if the situation was reversed he would react the same way, he can’t seem to fight down the guilt gnawing at his insides.

On the flip side of it all, when he lies there’s guilt but also the crushing self doubt, invasive thoughts, and a constant, almost begging desire in the back of his mind to just end it all.

Some days it’s harder to ignore than others. Thomas is out today writing a test in one of his classes, and Newt wonders -not for the first time- if today will be the day he kills himself.

A click of the doorknob makes the decision for him. It seems he’s living a little longer.

~~~~~~

A little longer doesn’t wind up being that much longer. It’s been two months since that first day with Minho in the cafe, and it has steadily progressed. He can’t find it within him to blame anything or anyone, and can’t settle on a concrete reason for doing it.

He just wants out.

He just wants the pain to stop. He thinks about Thomas, and the letter he had written him and placed upon his pillow before he snuck out of the dorm. He hopes he moves on, and is happy. Maybe Minho would move in with him.

He pushes down the slight bitterness that flares at that idea.

He exhales shakily, gazing down at the ground from where he stands, three stories up on the roof of the dorms. In his hand is a picture of himself and Thomas on Thomas’ 19th birthday, smiling like fools at the camera. He can’t remember if he was genuinely happy that day or not. He’d like to think he was; it’s hard not to be happy around Thomas.

He feels sick at the thought of Thomas. He hopes he’s not too angry with him. He takes a deep breath, and for a moment, calm washes over him. This is finally it. He’s going to put an end to this, and finally be free of all this pain.

He steps up onto the cool ledge, the cold from the cement seeping into his already freezing feet. He looks down at the muddy grass, and hopes this fall is high enough to kill him. He had been reading up on it, and by most accounts it seemed like it would be. This was his one chance.

Time to take it.

He takes a deep breath, and steps off the roof. The fall to the ground is quick, and he hears a blood curdling screech of his name before he hits the ground and everything goes black. 


	2. I Know How It Feels

“Newt?!” Thomas’ voice trembles as he kneels over his best friend. He had called an ambulance mere moments before, and he hears sirens in the distance heading toward their location, but it all seems insanely slow.

“Fuck, Newt,” He lifts his hands, shaking so violently it’s as if his hands are each miniature earthquakes. He can hardly breathe, and any breaths he take wind up being pitched and loud and dissatisfying. He finally touches his friend and the panic coiled firmly in his gut makes him half-scream when he feels Newt’s heart beating, weak but there nonetheless.

He hears the ambulance stopping behind him, but he can’t seem to turn his head- can’t seem to move anymore. His brain isn’t sure what to do, how to react, now he knows Newt’s heart is beating but his own hands are shaking so violently that he doesn’t know if Newt is breathing- he can’t tell- he can’t remember if hearts can keep beating if you stop breathing.

Hands touch his shoulders and he inhales as if he’s going to scream, but nothing comes out except his panicked and rushed breaths. He’s never had a panic attack before, but this is what he imagined them to be like.

Muffled voices sound by his ears and then he’s being carefully guided away from Newt, and that’s when he starts screaming. It starts as soft chants of ‘no’ before it evolves into shrieking and struggling in the arms of the paramedics that are only trying to help.

“Let me go- Newt!” He roars.

He feels dampness on his cheeks and thinks he may be crying, and distantly hears someone call out for sedatives. Everything fades away to blissful nothingness as his eyes shut, and he slips into the abyss.

~~~~~~~

When Thomas wakes up, he’s strapped down in a hospital bed. He mumbles Newt’s name as his brain fights the fog of the drugs he’d been given, and it takes a few minutes for his eyes to finally clear.

“Good morning, Thomas.” A soft voice says warmly, and he flinches and turns an accusatory look upon her.

“Who are you? Where’s Newt?”

“Isaac is in surgery right now, he-“

“What? Surgery for what?” He demands urgently, immediately struggling against the restraints.

“Thomas please, contain yourself or I’ll have to sedate you again.” He glowers, but he does as she asks and reluctantly lays back. “Thank you. Isaac’s fall resulted in a small amount of internal bleeding, and a few broken ribs.”

“Is that all?”

“He has to take it easy for a few weeks, and a cast is going to be put on his bad leg again, since the old crack in the bone where it didn’t heal properly separated again. Other than that, I understand you’ve been left in charge of medical decisions?”

Thomas winces, and nods his head; Newt’s father had fallen ill around his sons sixteenth birthday, and had put into his will that, should anything ever happen to Newt and his parents were no longer around, Thomas was to be the one they went to. Three months afterward, Newt’s parents were in a car accident and both killed.

“Yeah.” He mutters, shaking his head to shake off the unpleasant memories.

“Alright, then I’ll put this bluntly; we’d like to send Newt to a psychiatric hospital.”

“Huh?”

“We found evidence of repeated, frequent self harm.”

“He hasn’t self harmed since high school, the scars are all faded on his wrists-“ He tries to protest, but he breaks off uncertainly at the look of pity upon her face.

“I’m talking about his thighs, Thomas. Isaac has been cutting his inner thighs. Likely to keep you from noticing something was amiss.”

He feels like a rug has been yanked from under his feet. His thighs? He’s cutting again? And he didn’t tell me?

“I...” He can’t seem to form another word, simply staring at her in stunned silence.

“We want to put him into a psychiatric hospital so we can help him. He wouldn’t be allowed visitors, but we could get him meds and a therapist and-“

“No.” He blurts, and her eyes open wide in shock. “Isolating him is the last thing he needs, you’re not-“ He breaks off and takes a deep breath to calm himself, noticing his voice was getting louder and louder with every word. “You’re not taking him. I agree he needs help, but not that kind of help, and as soon as he’s discharged I’m going to help him find help.”

“With all due respect, Thomas, you’ve been ‘helping’ this whole time and he still tried to kill himself.”

His expression twists into a bitter scowl.

“Get out.” He growls. “Let me out of this fucking bed, and then get out. You can’t keep me here against my will, and if you try it I’ll sue the pants off of this entire hospital.”

The doctor stares in silence for a moment, and then purses her lips and releases the straps holding him down. Without another word, she turns and leaves the room.

~~~~~~~

It takes four hours for them to let him see Newt. Hours that he spent pacing and fighting his newfound anxiety. He wonders if Newt will be mad at him for calling an ambulance, and not leaving him there to die. He wonders how he’s going to help Newt. He can’t drop out, Newt would kill him, and he knows Newt doesn’t want to drop out either.

Or does he?

School seems to be a problem for Newt- it’s not like he has any time to focus on mental health when he’s busy cramming for tests and studying and doing projects.

Thomas sighs.

He’s not schools biggest fan either. Many of their high school friends, like Minho, Brenda, Alby and Gally had taken a year off to soul search and feel what it was like to really live. Maybe they’d had the right idea. He wonders if it’s too late to rectify their mistake.

Brenda is with Habitat for Humanity, building houses for the needy. Minho works a little out of town at a coffee shop and spends his nights partying with his new friends. Alby and Gally are backpacking in England together.

Everyone is doing something worthwhile, except for himself and his best friend. Thomas swallows the regret burning in his chest, and is pulled out of his thoughts by a nurse tapping him on the shoulder and leading him to Newts room.

And there he sits, refusing to move until Newt wakes up.

~~~~~~~~~~~

He falls asleep with his arms and head propped up on the side of Newts mattress, exhaustion pulling him under despite his struggles to fight it. He wakes only when he hears a soft groan come from the bedridden body next to him.

He rockets upright and his gaze focuses immediately upon Newt, and when Newt’s eyes flutter open Thomas feels like he might drop dead. His heart is about ready to beat out of his chest, and he wishes more than anything he could kiss Newt.

But Newt is his friend, and just his friend, so he restrains himself.

“Newt?” He whispers, and Newt’s gaze slowly flicks to him. Tears well in his eyes immediately, and Thomas finds his own cheeks are suddenly damp.

“Tommy.” He mumbles, “Y-You saw that, didn’t you?”

Thomas doesn’t have to ask to know what he’s referring to.

“Yeah.” He tries to reply, and his voice breaks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, I did. I woke up to piss, and when I went back to bed I found your note.” He explains, and Newt looks away. “Christ, Newt, I-“ His voice breaks and he’s unable to continue, simply putting his face in his hands to muffle his ragged breathing.

Now that he’s looking Newt in the eyes all of the emotions he’s been bottling up since he saw him fall are rearing their ugly heads, and all he wants to do is cry.

“Tommy?” He squeaks, and Thomas slowly raises his head. “Are you- Are you crying?”

Thomas hurriedly wipes his face and shakes his head.

“I’m fine.” He lies, and Newt frowns guiltily and looks away, eyes falling to the hospital blanket. “I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”

“Anything.” He promises, lifting his head so their gazes meet once more.

“Did you really stop cutting yourself after high school?”

Newts stomach sinks, and his face pales. Oh god, why did it have to be that. He swallows the sick feeling in his stomach, and shakes his head no.

“My thigh..” He whispers, and Thomas sharply turns his head away and muffles a soft sob.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry, I- I feel so bad when I make you worry about me-“

“I worry because you’re my best friend, Isaac! I just want to help, I want to make sure you’re okay, and when you’re not okay I want to do what I can to help you be okay!” He interrupts, and tears slip easily down Newts cheeks.

“I’m sorry.”

Thomas backpedals.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you cry, I just.. I was so scared, Newt. I thought I was going to lose you. That all I’d have left is the note you left me, and you’d just be gone, and I-“ He breaks off when Newt’s hand gently touches his.

“I’m here. I’m alive. I....” He wants to say more, to reassure Thomas that he’s here and not going anywhere. But he doesn’t know what to say. “How about you come up here?”

“Huh?”

“I’m a little cold, I could use a big spoon?” He offers, and Thomas’ cheeks turn a little pink. “I just need some help rolling over..”

“Okay.”

When they get Newt situated and Thomas crawls into the bed, it’s like the first time all over again. Thomas carefully keeps some space between their bodies, hands stiff at his sides, and Newt swallows thickly.

They both need this.

He reaches his good hand back and gently grasps Thomas’ fingers, using them to tug the brunettes hand over. He slips it over his waist, and Thomas exhales shakily before obeying the gentle command and shuffling closer.

This time, it’s like the last time they cuddled. Thomas’s breath tickles the back of Newt’s neck, and he presses every part of their bodies together, pulling the blanket over them. Both relax at the contact, and Newt gently links their fingers together with the hand he had stolen moments ago, holding their joined hands tightly to his chest and taking comfort from the warmth.

Thomas’ heartbeat slows back to something almost normal at the warm and familiar reassurance that Newt is here, he’s alive and he’s not going anywhere.

They drift off within minutes, holding tightly to each other.

~~~~~~

It takes a week for the hospital to release Newt, taking Thomas nothing less than 4 screaming arguments with various doctors and staff to get them to finally listen and discharge the blonde. Newt has an ugly pair of crutches that he hates, and Thomas has a weight in his chest that makes every step feel like it’s a burden, like each breath just isn’t worth it.

He wonders for the first time in his life if this is what it’s like to feel depressed.

They get back to their dorm, Thomas helps Newt situate himself comfortably on the couch, and then he disappears. Newt is left with nothing to do but to play on his phone, deciding to text Minho while he waits for Thomas to return.

**Newt** : Hey, I got discharged from the hospital! They gave me some crutches that I fucking hate

**Minho** : Serves you right.

Newt grimaces. He’d forgotten Minho was still upset with him over what had happened. He glances toward the doorway where Thomas had disappeared, and then back to his phone.

**Newt** : Do you know what’s up with tommy?

**Minho** : No clue. You only jumped to your attempted death right in front of him, why would anything be up with him?

**Newt** : I could do without the pissy attitude Minho. I don’t appreciate it.

He contemplates tossing his phone across the couch after sending that, but his mind is changed when it rings. He sighs and answers Minho’s call.

“You know what I don’t appreciate, Newt? I don’t appreciate you lying to us both and pretending you’re fine when you promised you’d talk to us about this kind of stuff. I don’t appreciate that I got a call in the middle of my shift saying one of my best friends had just tried to kill himself. And you know what else I didn’t appreciate?” His voice is an angry hiss, and it takes Newt a moment to reply.

“What?” He mumbles, and Minho continues.

“I don’t appreciate getting that call from Thomas, while he was losing his fucking mind! Right in front of him, Newt! Right in front of the same kid that can’t think straight if you scraped your fucking knee in front of him! Let alone that you’re his best friend, and the most important thing in his life.”

“No I’m not..” He mutters, and Minho’s tone changes when he replies. This time it’s soft, still with an undertone of frustration, but he’s not yelling anymore.

“Yes you are.” He pauses, and sighs. “He’s fucked up, dude. He’s texting me all kinds of fucked up shit. The doctors had to sedate him because he was having such an out of control panic attack when he found you. They had to strap him to a bed so he wouldn’t hurt himself while he flipped out.”

“What?” He chokes out, his chest feeling uncomfortably tight, and he can almost hear Minho nodding.

“Texted me earlier saying ‘I think I know what depression feels like’, and if that’s not the most concerning thing you’ve ever heard then I think you need to hear it again.”

“He... He hasn’t told me any of this.”

“He’s scared you’ll try again.”

Newt doesn’t know how to answer that. They sit there in silence for a few moments before Newt finally ends the call. He struggles to get to his feet, grabbing his crutches and hopping his way down the hall. When he reaches Thomas’ door it’s closed, and he can hear muffled sobbing through the thin wood.

Tears fill his eyes and he determinedly blinks them back.

“Tommy?” He calls, and he hears scrambling and crashing and then the door is yanked open and Thomas’ tear stained face is right in front of him.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need your pills-“

He breaks off when Newt drops his crutches and throws his arms around Thomas’ neck. Thomas reacts instantly, holding the blonde tightly to him, and Newt pushes his face into the crook of his neck.

“Talk to me.” He whispers. “I’m sorry. Please talk to me.”

He pulls back slightly when he notices Thomas still has a hand on the door, and he shoots it a questioning glance. Thomas noticeably pales.

“Tommy?” He prompts, and Thomas releases him immediately, flailing his single hand out to grab Newt’s crutches. “Thomas.” His voice is harder now, and he’s shaking, and he hopes to god this isn’t what he thinks it is.

“Newt-“

“Thomas, show me your arm.”

“Newt it’s-“

“Show me your fucking arm!” He shrieks the command, and Thomas goes rigid. Neither moves for a few moments, and then Thomas drops his arm from behind the door. Newt snatches it, and feels faint.

“I’m sorry.” Thomas whispers. “It just happened and I-...” He breaks off, and Newt feels his own tears break free.

“Tommy...”

Thomas looks away, but Newt can’t seem to pull his gaze from the angry, bleeding cut across his forearm.


End file.
